Musings on Friendship
by saffroncremebrulee
Summary: Anzu muses on Atem, Yugi, and the meaning of friendship. Rated for swearing and mild self-destructive behavior.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer** : I do not own YGO. This is a work of fanfiction for entertainment purposes only. It's another one of those timed challenges. Please excuse any egregious typos.

Soundtrack: "Girls Your Age" by Transviolet

Please note this is rated T for mild drug use/self-destructive behavior. Plus a little swearing.

...

Anzu took a long drag from her cigarette as she leaned against the side of the building. The white bricks felt hot against her back, almost as scalding as the rush of nicotine that bathed her nostrils.

 _Ah_. Sweet relief.

Smoking was a bad habit. Something she picked up from the other dancers in the crew. Too many long hours, too many rehearsals, too many injuries, too many bills and too little money. Didn't make sense that she was spending the couple of dollars she had left on a temporary fix, but Anzu figured she deserved it after the week she's had. The head of the company just left the studio after one of his infamous huffs about whatever the hell that was bothering him today; all the dancers and instructors suffered, of course, though it was always the newest members of the company who paid the most in terms of semi-accurate yet acidic digs on their technique.

She sighed again, taking another long inhale. The smoke bubbled in the air, dissipating into the acrid city air. Whatever grand dreams she had of moving to the city had long dissipated, too, like a ring of blue gray puffs into a city full of blue and gray, most of it auto exhaust and subway fumes. Mrs. Mazaki always said there was beauty in the brokenness, hope in the hopeless, etc. etc. All of that was easy enough to believe when she was young and gallivanting around the world with people she thought would save it one day, but that wasn't the reality of twenty-something life. The hot asphalt jungle was pretty fucking cold most of the time, actually, and she was just another body, melting into a sea of people who moved to the city with dreams that have long since broken.

It was moments like this when she missed Atem. Truly, deeply, and madly with a ferocity that shocked even her therapist (the company paid for one for all the dancers, mainly because of the pending lawsuits for mental health degradation against the company head). Atem had been larger than life— a kind of escape, really, from the mundane of teenage drama and boring, boring life of malls and lipgloss. She felt _alive_ with Atem in the way that she hasn't felt since then. That was a kind of a fairy tale kind of feeling with the young, impressionable girl riding off into the sunset with a grand prince (king, actually) with nary a care in the world.

That was all a lie, of course, but it was a fucking beautiful illusion nonetheless. He was very kingly in his actions, but he had his flaws, too. Most of all he _left_ , with nary a word since then to even let them know he was OK.

That was a mess of emotions to work through, to be honest. Anzu thinks she probably provided the company therapist with enough work for three people. Because that's what it was, right? She was carrying the baggage of all three people. Atem, who left, Yugi, who remained, and herself, who let someone leave with half of her heart and didn't have enough left to give for the half that remained. In many ways she didn't even have a whole lot left to give herself. She just packed up what was left of her soul and moved to a brand new city, hoping that the glitzy postcards she dreamt of long before Yugi, Atem, or Duel Monsters would take away that void he left in her soul.

But even this dream felt empty, now that she was here. What was a dream without the people most important to her?

Yugi had reached out a few times since she's arrived. She hadn't really responded beyond a couple of short, polite e-mails and even shorter, more polite phone calls. _Hey. I'm good, yeah. Life in the city is rough. Rats and cockroaches everywhere, y'know? Company's good. Trying to make friends. Grandpa doing OK? You're cool? House still standing, haha? Awesome. Take care._

All of that was a lie, too.

She wasn't _good_ , for one. She was smoking in a corner between a bodega and an alleyway that just had the crime scene tape removed a couple hours ago. Life in the city wasn't just _rough_ ; it was brutal when you don't have money. Even the rats and cockroaches ate more than she did, sometimes. The company was filled with mean, bitter people who did cruel and petty things to sabotage each other, always trying to win at hamster wheel by pushing others off. No one actually _wanted_ to be friends. They all pretended to want friendship while struggling with their own insecurities and sadness about how city life failed their every expectation with spectacular indifference.

You want to make principal dancer? Good luck with that after you break your ankle for the 3rd time. You want to live in an apartment with a doorman and washer/dryer? Good luck with that when you literally can't afford to do laundry at the quarter a load laundromat. You want to be a part time writer? Good luck with that when you're stealing warmth and WiFi from the cafe down the street with the hookah bar in the basement.

Life was rough for Yugi, too. She could tell from the tone of his voice. The shop wasn't doing well, pushed out of business by online retailing and whatever Kaiba's new screen to door delivery service was called. Yugi was struggling, with the loss of his best friends. Domino was facing a housing crisis. Blah blah blah. It was all over the news even though Yugi never mentioned it.

But they both pretended they were OK. It was a false sort of bravado, like, here, we're _cool_ , we're struggling but we're not acknowledging it because somehow acknowledging it meant that we're weak and unworthy in some way of our dreams. We struggle and we struggle and we struggle while feeling as if letting others know about our struggles somehow invalidates us or makes us weak in their eyes.

Yugi was living his narrative of "cool guy running the game shop" and she was living her narrative of "cool girl dancing in the big city." Neither of them acknowledged the unvarnished realities of how tough life actually was for a young twenty-something. That wasn't their way. They were _cool_. Even when they weren't.

It was times like this that she really missed Atem. He was like a larger than life escape from the mundane reality. She had wanted to be bigger than life by just being near him. People adored him. He was charismatic, talented, super duper brilliant. Being the token "cheerleader" meant that she was, by proxy, charismatic, talented, kinda maybe brilliant by association. He was an image of someone she had always wanted to be and when he left, it was as if the image of who she wanted to be left, too.

Atem _was_ wonderful. But he was human, too. He had an awful temper, for one, although truth to be told Anzu would be just as mad if some power hungry maniacs wanted to take over the world, too. That didn't excuse the tantrums, the sulking, and the occasional rages against the villains of the week, though. That was why Atem needed support and validation, too, because the weight of having to save the world really did a number on his ability to just let go and enjoy life.

Anzu was happy when he left. Maybe he finally found peace, she thought, after being tortured for so long about what the next threat was going to be. He never quite got over the looking over his shoulders phase of life. There was always some new threat against "the world" emanating from somewhere. He needed to go to save himself. It would have been cruel to ask him to stay, but she did wish for it, sometimes, for herself and Yugi, because they could have both really used a someone who didn't pretend like things were OK just to get through some of the bad days.

Anzu sighed as she let the ashes fall to the floor and picked her cell phone to dial an all-too familiar number.

Atem wasn't here anymore, but maybe she could be there for Yugi and he could be there for her.

They needed each other, too.

...

Poor kids. I really like making them suffer, apparently.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer** : I do not own YGO.

Soundtrack: "Guys My Age" by Hey Violet

...

Yugi picked up immediately.

"Hello?" His voice sounded groggy and thick with sleep and maybe just a little bit of NyQuil. "Anzu? What's up?"

 _Shit shit shit shit._

It was three in the morning in Domino. Yugi probably thought something was terribly wrong. Knowing him, he was probably planning a couple of rescue plans and thinking of exit strategies for whatever tough spot he thinks she just got into.

"Hey! Yugi." She tried to aim for a balanced everything-is-totally-cool voice. "Sorry to call you at a weird hour. I was just thinking about you, y'know?"

There was silence on the other end. Yugi was probably digesting the news, trying to figure out if she was pretending to be OK or just really OK. He must have decided on OK-really-OK-and-not-pretending-to-be-OK because his demeanor brightened noticeably. "What's up Anzu?"

"Just life. I was really missing you, that's all. Did I scare you by calling so early? I'm sorry about that."

Yugi giggled. For a moment he sounded like a little kindergartener who stole her blocks and Legos to build Duel Monster forts. "It's cool, Anzu. I've missed you too. I was just thinking about you because we have a new shipment of Magician of Faith cards, and I know that's your favorite card..."

Anzu let the conversation roll on, nodding and agreeing at the appropriate intervals. She did miss Yugi. A little more than she missed Joey and Tristan, actually, because those knuckleheads always wanted to hear about the so-called seedy underbelly of New York, as if there wasn't one in every city. Mai and Serenity were good to talk to, too, especially during the nights when she needed to cry it out over some dancing or life mishap. Talking to Yugi was really comforting, though, because he was a familiar presence, and his voice always took her back to easier, more pleasant days of milk cartons and juice boxes instead of expired condensed milk and boxed wine.

"Anzu?"

"Huh?" _Shit_. She had spaced out. "Sorry, what was that, Yugi?"

"I was just asking you if you were really OK, or if there was something you wanted to talk about?"

She hesitated. _Nah_. Now wasn't the time to dump her problems on Yugi. It was three a.m., after all. Besides, she couldn't come at this conversation fed on cigarettes and tap water alone. There was a serious deficiency in the way she was handling life (going hungry probably wasn't a good start), and it wasn't Yugi's problem that she needed to sort that out first. _Still nice of him to ask, though._ Maybe she could start with just a small sampler of the bigger pie.

"I'm just feeling one of those days, y'know? Like I'm a little lost. The company director is having one of his moods and just chewed me out. Feels like that whole Marik situation all over again. Except this time I feel like I'm actually maybe crazy, haha."

Yugi laughed a little. It sounded forced. "I know how you feel, Anzu. How are you dealing with it? Are you resting and eating well? You know Grandpa will have a fit if you're not taking care of yourself first."

"Thanks, Yugi. I'm trying my best. We're gonna make it, right? How are you?"

For another long second Yugi was silent. "It's going just OK, Anzu. I miss you a lot. Sometimes I feel like all I'm doing is floating from day to day and trying not to drown. I'm still OK though. Just tired."

She sighed. That feeling was all too familiar. New York, at least the vision of it she had in her mind, lasted all of three or four days before reality set in. The city was filled with people with dreams and not a whole lot of time and compassion for others. There was a void in terms of real friendship and support. Everyone seemed "busy" with work or life or social media; she's not even sure how they even have time to be presenting a happy, curated image of themselves when all she wanted to do at night was watch cat videos and motivational speeches. Who in the world documents waiting five hours for exorbitantly expensive macaroons anyways? Checking Kaiba's DuelBook was like arguing with someone who knew all of your insecurities and didn't hesitate to drag them out at the earliest possible opportunity. Are you afraid you're not living well? Well, don't check on what your best friend from second grade is doing, because she's jet-setting in Aruba or somewhere with this hot European boyfriend with 8-pack abs. DuelBook was a land of happy people pretending to be happier by curating a picture-perfect existence. If dancing at the company was like running a hamster wheel, DuelBook just made the wheel available to the public, open to all sorts of congratulatory commentary as well as self-imposed sadness once everyone else had their moment.

What did she have to share? Her page looked pretty and glitzy to Yugi and everyone else. There were pictures of new, shiny pointe shoes balanced against the tops of skyscrapers. Yummy, shiner-than-life apples that cost a small fortune at the Farmer's Market. The occasional croissant or two, when the company felt generous enough to invite dancers to donor luncheons. There were even a couple blurry shots of her and Mai, blonde hair against brunette buns posing in front of the obligatory Times Square and Statute of Liberty landmarks. All in all her life looked just as beautiful land shiny, but, sometimes, inside she just cold and empty, too, like the blank screen of her laptop when she turned all the lights off to crawl under the one blanket she can afford near the radiator.

But all of that wasn't Yugi's problem. "I'm glad you're OK. You should take care of yourself, too. That's what we should both do." Feeling a little disingenuous, she tried to sound chipper and joyful. "I was just worried about you, that was all. Thanks so much for taking the time. Let's do this again, yeah?"

He agreed and she hung up the phone.

It wasn't the best beginning, but it was a beginning rather than an ending. They were still feeling each other out, getting to know each other again after a long couple months of not really speaking on any sort of meaningful topics. They had both grown up and grown apart.

That was life, though. They had a lot to catch up on, and plenty of time to do it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer** : I do not own YGO.

 **Soundtrack** : "Imagine" by Ariana Grande

...

It was three in the morning again.

She was still up.

Had been up since about 1 a.m., actually. Sleep was a long time coming tonight as it usually was. The hustle of the city was a chaotic and traumatic change to the quiet, calm streets of Domino. Back home Anzu could hear herself think between snatches of crickets and wind ruffling through leaves. Here, in New York, the only soundtrack was the constant wail of ambulances and the occasional drunken snatch of conversations between some too-drunk college kids pretending to be adults for the first time.

Anzu had given up on sleep for the time being. What was the point? All she saw when she closed her eyes was Atem, and she didn't need any more pain tonight. It was years now, since he stepped onto his journey forward through the golden gates and out of her life, forever, and she always held out hope that maybe one day he would come back. Maybe with an apology. Maybe with a long list of reasons. Maybe with a little bit of closure. Maybe even with a smile and soft whisper of, " _Hey_ , I'm here for you."

Really, what was so hard about holding onto a dream that wasn't ever going to come back when she couldn't sleep? Even if she could, his face filled every corner of her mind. It was like being haunted by both a memory and a psychic connection to a memory; no matter what she did, she couldn't get away from him. Every face in the crowd had some aspect of his visage. Every piece of music pounded to the beat of his heart. Every bit of her soul yearned for him even though she knew that he was gone, like truly gone and never available to her again in the way he used to be. It wasn't even gone like Yugi was gone in the sense that Yugi was still around. As in, if she wanted to and had the money for it, she could hop on a plane back to Domino and see him, anytime she wanted, as long as he was home and the game shop was still open.

Anzu sighed again. This was an unproductive thinking circle. She always started with the known facts and the faces of the past, trying to reconstruct and make sense of a reality that didn't need anyone else to try to overlay a narrative on. The truth was buried somewhere in that haze of pain and memory. Atem would probably say different things about how he membered his time with them. Yugi would probably say the same. Joey, Tristan, Mai, and Serenity and maybe even Seto had their own versions of how their stories unfolded together before falling apart. She understood and respected all of their perspectives.

Wishes, to the city she had tried to shut off all the pain and grief. It was easier to bury herself in the excitement of going to the studio to dance every day. The physical and emotional pain was worth the utter exhaustion to create something beautiful for their audiences to watch. The company ran itself like a corporation, sometimes, with the dancers as interchangeable parts and the directors as the cruel, spiteful puppeteers they really were. There was a layer of what the megalomaniac card players of her childhood. All the dancers were pieces to be maneuvered around the board— didn't matter if they hurt or ate, just as long as they performed to the critics' satisfaction.

Anzu had welcomed the almost total control of her waking hours at first. Nice, really, to not have to think about what she was doing or even who she was. The directors were pretty clear on both. Show up, dance, shuffle all of your humanity off to a corner and just perform. That was a nice band-aid on the pain of loss and the rage of grief. Denial was the first step, and she was really, really good at denial. People would ask how she was and she would say, "Great! Super!" Like there wasn't anything wrong at all with being given only a few hundred calories worth of food for each day and heavy makeup to cover all the under-eye circles.

Some of the dancers didn't even need _that_. They simply stopped eating and began existing, like ghosts who floated from scene to scene fed on cigarettes and water.

 _No wonder the company psychologist had so much work to do._

The directors managed to hire the saddest, most vulnerable and perfectionist dancers out there for the cheapest, most docile crew they could find. Ballet was competitive. They had to make money to keep the company running. Too bad profit-making involved cutting down on basic human necessities for employees.

 _Corporations_.

Not for the first time, Anzu wondered if it was too late to ask Kaiba to sponsor some of their events. He didn't need _that_ much money, after all. Besides, focusing on that would be a nice project, between than having to face the next couple stages of grieving, because wasn't that why she moved to the city, to avoid having to see Yugi's face and therefore, Atem's face everywhere?

But she couldn't move away from her mind. Atem was everywhere. She dreamt of him, smelled him, felt him in ways she couldn't comprehend. He was nowhere and yet everywhere. Even the smallest hint of someone who sounds like him brought back memories of their good days of gallivanting around the world like a band of reckless, happy teenagers. Those were tough yet good times. Looking back at them brought such a sense of sadness, joy, and empathy for the broken people they once were. They were teenagers trying to save the world, with everything to prove and everything to lose.

 _Kinda makes you wonder what all the adults were up to, huh_? Anzu thought.

The truth was that the adults were either too busy facing their own problems or, more likely, saving the world using children's card games was not actually the real world. That was more a metaphor than anything else. As if life was a fair and equal game where everyone came to the table with good intentions and followed a set of guidelines. Having danced for a couple of months, she can now clearly state that life was not, in fact fair and that, no, not everyone came to the table with a sense of fairness and respect for others.

Worst of all, life didn't follow any set of prescribed rules. It was just a messy jumble of happenings. At given time the studio could run out of heat (happened twice during the winter), run out of instructors (the principal dancers stepped in), or run out of hope (because all the dancers gave up). All of that was apparently par for course in this particular city. The audiences never saw the literal blood on the floor after practices and performances, but Anzu saw and felt them. All was a beautiful illusion and she was just a piece in a game she didn't even know the rules to.

Hence why she was up at three in the morning. Ruminating.

The past was a beautiful and fragile thing. In the moments they felt good and sad, like a lullaby of a happier time. There was plenty of suffering then. The whole train wreck situation, for example, or the Cubic overlord disaster. All of that was just...strange and awkward and weird. They all brought forth feelings of fear and hope, because Atem was around he would always save the day, right?

But Atem was gone now. She would have to save herself, if she could, in this crappy, run-down apartment in the middle of a desolate land and she didn't know if she could do it on her own.

It was tough to miss someone who wasn't coming back.


End file.
